Friday, 31 January 2014

Unto the Seventh Generation

Visit Mr.Knowitall to post your own Friday Flash Fifty-Five Fiction!

The cry of the Hawk, the spring hatchling now flown meant soon his world would be mere sound.  For a man, now dust in the wind, had made bones of a country and punishment for his kin. 


As Joash screamed for his son, he hoped, as had his father, that he would be the last.




13 comments:

  1. Hey...This one was deeply intense!
    very creative and perfect for the prompt.
    Loved your 55
    Thanks for playing, thanks for your fantastic support
    have a Kick Ass Week-End

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  2. The eternal struggle, well-limned here--a very satisfying cadence and series of images, as well.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, it could easily tip over into more formal poetry

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  3. Better to be screaming than be the last of your kind.

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  4. Leaves me with a sense of usefulness… just waiting for disaster.

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Welcome and thanks for dropping in. I'll pop by yours by and by.

This blog was inspired by First 50 words where you freewrite from a single word prompt. I use random words or images to create flash fiction in formats ranging from twitter postcards to short short stories.